Saturday, October 9, 2010

Laura Lush

In the secret forest mushrooms glow in velvet stupors. Under moss, skulls whiten like well-kept streetlamps, empty conchs were you to hold them to your ears. Yet the deer, the lynx, and boar live on freely, nudging at still-uncovered helmets. The night's shiny as a cut. And sometimes they find them, face down— skeletons with the dainty bracelets of barbed wire round their angel-thin bones.